I shake my head even though his offer is super sweet. “No, Walmart was perfect. Don’t forget I’m working on a teacher’s salary here.”

“Ahh, yes. It’s insane how little you guys get paid, but we won’t get into that right now.” He slows down the truck; up ahead, there’s a little shop on the side of the road, bulb string lights coming off the side, providing light for a picnic-table area. With white siding and black trim, the shop has a big sign on the front that says TANYA’S TACKLE. Griffin turns off the road and into the shop’s small, gravel-paved parking area.

Okay, that’s weird.

“Is this a tackle shop?”

Griffin puts the truck in park and turns toward me. “Trust me, it’s good.”

“Is it okay to admit I’m a little nervous? What if there’s a worm in my sandwich?”

Winking, he opens the car door. “It’ll just add some flavor.”

Not the answer I was looking for, but with a brave foot forward, I follow him to the take-out window on the side. There are a few people milling about, sitting at the bright-red picnic tables, enjoying lobster rolls and homemade chips. The shop backs up to the woods, and with the sun setting over the trees, little lightning bugs reveal themselves in the distance, blinking in harmony, providing a beautiful backdrop for dinner.

Griffin steps up to the window and is greeted by a woman with gray-brown hair tied at the nape of her neck. She’s wearing a bright-red polo and has a pen behind her ear.

“Griffin, it’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”

“Hey, Tanya, how have you been?”

“You know, working and welding whenever I get a chance.”

Griffin places his hand on the counter and leans in a bit as if he’s sharing a secret with Tanya, but he talks loudly enough for me to hear. “How are the beehives?”

Tanya visibly lights up, and an even stronger appreciation for Griffin falls over me. He’s genuinely a nice guy, knowing a little bit of something about everyone he meets. Personable and kind—two wonderful qualities.

“Oh, they are great. I just upped my hives to four colonies. I spent the weekend building new boxes for them, side by side rather than on top of each other. It will be so much easier for me to lift with my old-lady bones.”

“Four colonies? That’s going to keep you busy.”

“Just what I want.” She gives Griffin a wink, pulls her pen down from her ear, and holds up a pad of paper. “What can I get you tonight, handsome?”

Griffin turns to me. “Is a lobster roll good for you?”

“Oh yes, please, and some homemade chips and a soda would be awesome.”

“Did you get that?” Griffin asks Tanya. She nods. “Make that two, then.” Reaching to his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet, and I stop him immediately.

“Let me.”

He scoffs, as if I’m ridiculous for even offering, and opens his wallet.

“Griffin, I’m serious. You did me such a favor tonight. Let me pay you back.”

“You don’t need to pay me back, Ren.” He pulls out a few bills and hands them over to Tanya before I can even reach into my purse. “Plus, do you even have cash on you? She doesn’t take cards.”

“Damn it,” I mutter. “Well, I’m going to make it up to you.”

“No need.” He takes the change from a smiling Tanya and throws a five-dollar bill in the tip jar. He nods toward the tables. “Want to sit down?”

“Sure.” Once we’re seated, I say, “The minute my kitchen is set up and ready to go, I’m going to make you a casserole. Oooh, or I can make you my famous southwestern taco potpie.”

His brows rise in interest, his hands slowly rubbing together. “Taco potpie? Tell me more about that.”

“It’s so good. Basically it’s like a taco but inside a pie shell. Black beans, taco beef, corn, cheese, and salsa. It’s a real delight.”

He licks his lips, keeping his eyes trained on me, the blue a little darker than I remember. “I’ll take your taco potpie as payment. Sounds amazing.”

“Then it’s done!”

“Food is an easy way to win me over.” He pats his rock-hard stomach, the sound of his hand hitting it dense. Just looking at him, there’s no doubt in my mind that he is sporting some kind of six-pack under his lobster shirt.

“So what got your parents involved in the fudge business?”

“My parents grew up in Port Snow and wanted to make something more of the town, so they bought the Landing, which was actually an old tackle shop just like Tanya’s. My grandpa invested in their business, and they fixed up the joint, started playing around with fudge recipes. My mom was really good at baking, so they combined the two. They saw the potential in Port Snow and helped take it to the next level.”

“So your parents are kind of pioneers, bringing the town to life.”

“They are, and I’m not just saying that because they’re my parents. They created a lucrative business and then helped start renovating the shops on Main Street. They care a lot about the town and put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into making it into the charming place it is today.”

“And that’s why you’re part of the restoration committee, right? To preserve what your parents helped create.”

A small blush creeps over his cheeks as he runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah. I see their dedication, and I want to carry it on. Make sure this is a place people want to visit for decades. We’re constantly thinking of new ways to bring in more visitors, especially during the off-season. We want to keep the town alive year-round. It’s one of the reasons we have the huge lobster festival at the beginning of fall, to keep the visitors coming. The festival is three days of celebration, all things Port Snow, all things lobster. Kind of marks the end of summer, a culmination of all the hard work we put in over the summer months. We sponsor a huge booth where we sell out of fudge every day. Half of our proceeds actually go toward new supplies for the teachers at the school.”

I prop my chin on my hand, taking in his passionate, animated face. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as proud of where he lives. It’s so beyond endearing that it makes me want to feel the same kind of passion and claim Port Snow as my hometown.

I’ve only known Griffin for a few days, but with each passing moment, I realize how much more I really want to get to know him.

Before I can respond with another question, Tanya arrives at our table and sets a tray of food before us. It bears two rolls piled with lobster, homemade chips, and two sodas. My mouth waters immediately, and I remind myself to mind my manners and not shove the entire lobster roll down my throat.

“Enjoy, you two.” Tanya pauses, eyeing me for a brief moment before turning back to the tackle—uh, I mean lobster shop?

“Okay, do I just dive right in? Or is there a special way to eat this?” I pick up one of the sandwiches, admiring the bright-red-and-white lobster piled high, crowning the sliced and toasted New England roll. Drippings of butter slide down the lumps of lobster meat. This is going to be so good.

Griffin picks his up with one hand, knowing exactly how to handle the sandwich, and nods before taking a giant bite. He raises his eyebrows at me as he chews, his cheeks puffed and a sly look on his face.

God, he’s so adorable.

Mimicking his approach, I try to fit my mouth over the entire thing but fail miserably, so I take a much smaller bite, letting all the flavors mix perfectly together as I chew. Butter, lobster, and the roll it’s toppling over. Sheer perfection.

And the company sitting across from me couldn’t be any better either.

“This is so freaking good,” I finally say, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

He lifts a chip from the plate between us and plops it in his mouth. “Told you this place was good. Don’t let the exterior deceive you; there are so many hidden gems like this. Stick with me, and I’ll show you all you need to know.”

I plan on it.

CHAPTER NINE

REN

As I stroll into town the next morning, visions of the night before play through my head. After finishing dinner, we drove back to Port Snow, listening to the radio and talking about the kind of tunes we’d listened to growing up. I boasted about all the boy bands that had held my heart in their talented hands, and Griffin talked about all the classic rock he loved listening to, particularly Journey and Queen.

He refused to acknowledge my teenage musical tastes, shaking his head and laughing, while I gave him credit for enjoying the classics.

When we pulled up to my house, he helped me unload the truck and even helped me carry my bags into the cottage.

I thanked him again and sent him on his way, three houses down. From my window, I sneakily watched him take his new laundry basket into his house on the other side of the street and flip light switches on as he made his way around the first floor.

It was a little stalkerish, but you can’t blame a girl for being intrigued.

I made great time in unpacking things and setting up my house so that it was much more functional, and I finally began to feel like my little house was becoming a home.